Why Me?
by Glimmer Conlon O'Leary
Summary: Why! Excuse me whilst I wail that to the walls in agony. Ahem. I am back. I try to mind my own business, I really, really do. But all the things that give me nightmares complete with bad mental images seem to hunt me down like wild dogs. DracoBlaise


_I honestly don't own anyone. JK Rowling in all her wonderful greatness does—I don't even own the blasted bubbles! Skrats. Ah, well. _

Why Me  
  
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_Why?!_ Excuse me whilst I wail that to the walls in agony.

Ahem. I am back. I try to mind my own business, I really, really do. But all the things that give me nightmares complete with _bad_ mental images seem to hunt me down like wild dogs.

Confused? Good. Me too.

All I really wanted to do was have a quiet bath in the prefect's bathroom. Seriously. I thought I'd be alone.

So there I was, immersed in the hot water, surrounded by fluffy pink bubbles and big, purple, Quaffle-sized ones that could have probably taken me out.

I was sitting back serenely in the shallow end, contemplating life, when the doors opened. I hunkered down in my bubbles after I careened my neck to see who it was.

Draco Malfoy had slid into the room. Checking to see that it was empty—which it wasn't, stupid blind git—he motioned to someone outside the door.

"See, I told you it would be empty," he was saying smoothly, his voice like icy water.

"But the tub is full," came another voice, a male's deep and rumbling.

"So? The last bloody idiot to use it didn't empty it. So what? Come on," he chided, crossing the stones to the edge of the pool.

As I was at present slunk so low in the tub I was in grave danger of inhaling pink bubbles, I could only see him halfway obscured by a purple bubble, which turned him purple as I looked at him through it. Quite an improvement.

He shrugged out of his robe and quickly yanked off his shirt, revealing his pale abdomen bedecked with thin, lean muscles. He undid his belt buckle and slid his jeans off, looking over at his companion as he did so.

"Come on Zabini, or do I have to hex you?"

_Blaise?_

What were they…?

Yep. Yes that.

"Bloody hell," the words escaped my lips in a barely audible whimper. I'm sure Malfoy didn't hear; those bubbles are seriously like soundproofing.

I couldn't leave now, not with them stripping before my very horrified eyes.

Blaise crossed into my path of vision and began disrobing himself as well. I was surprised to see how muscular he was, with a six-pack and brilliant forearms. Not that I was interested or anything.

Ahem.

They slid their boxers off, and thankfully, the bubbles were too high in front of my face so I saw nothing unsuitable for small children or people named Ron Weasley.

They both eased themselves into the pool, and stood facing each other. Their hair was wet, hanging in their eyes. Malfoy reached up and brushed Blaise's shaggy black hair from his face, running his slim fingers down Blaise's impossibly chiseled jaw-line as he lowered his hand.

In an instant, as if that one touch was a signal to proceed, their lips were dueling. I gasped; I had hoped it wouldn't come to this while I was still alive.

_Maybe I can drown myself_, I thought helplessly, looking around in vain for a possible escape route.

Suddenly, they both disappeared from sight, and I heard the rush of the water as it closed down over them.

_Bloody hell_, my mind moaned, panicking. Suddenly I had a thought, a crazy idea.

Maybe I could slip out while they were sex-wrestling under water. I raised myself up to peer over the bubbles. They would come up soon. Sure enough, seconds later, Blaise's dark hair broke the surface and I slid back down into obscurity.

Malfoy broke the surface moments later and they stood facing one another, planting slightly.

"'Nother go?" Blaise asked playfully. Malfoy smirked, and they sunk back into the pool.

It was go time. I had to get the bloody hell out of there before I started going into panicked, shocked conniptions on the spot and died from a heart attack or stroke or something equally tragic for someone so bloody young.

I jumped out of the pool, and grabbed my clothes from where I'd left them on the marble tiles. I yanked my robe on and tugged it shut, carrying my jeans, boxers, and shirt.

I ran from the room as fast as my feet could carry me and down the corridor toward the Gryffindor common room. My wet feet slid on the floor and I fell backwards, landing rather painfully on my bum and flashing the Fat Lady's friend Violet, who squealed in shock and yelled something about indecency as I ran by.

"Draw your sword, you filthy scoundrel!" Yelled that blasted knight as I scampered by. "Strumpet!" he screeched when I didn't respond. I'm not even going to go into who exactly is a slut here, though two names come to mind.

Cough Draco Malfoy couch Blaise Zabini cough.

Subtle, yes?

So I finally made it back to the common room, climbing gracelessly through the portrait hole after giving the password: "Gimcrackery."

"Ron, what—" Hermione began as I dashed past her, Harry, Ginny and the twins on my way to the dormitory.

No, no, no, no way. Wasn't talking to anyone right then. I needed to get my wits about me and decide if I wanted to let the entire school know what Draco Malfoy likes to do with his "family jewels."

God. Zabini and Malfoy. Whew, the girls were really going to cry over that one—those two were easily the most sought after snogging partners in the school.

Bloody hell.

Why did I have to witness such a thing? _Bad_ images, very bad indeed. Blast.

Why me?

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end


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